


In the golden blue

by ElisAttack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Merman Derek, Prince Stiles, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7499454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisAttack/pseuds/ElisAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fate is cruel, Ser.  It is ugly and vicious, but your pearls are beautiful.”</p><p>Or the one where Derek makes the most beautiful pearl necklaces in the ocean, and Stiles wants to buy one for his betrothed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the golden blue

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this yesterday on Tumblr [here.](http://iamonlydancing.tumblr.com/post/147401806777/dexterous-sinistrous-kala-fiorek-threading) It's inspired by an awesome piece of fanart of Merman!Derek threading pearls by kala-fiorek. This is only an edited version, so if you read it on Tumblr, you don't really need to read it again, the gist of the fic is still the same.

Derek rolls in with the tide, flowing along the ocean currents, towards the small bay where he is to meet the earth-walker prince.  The pearls looped around his body—on display for the prince—glow in the sunlight that pierces through the surf.  Derek lives far into the deep, and only traverses this close to shore for trading.  

Derek emerges from the ocean, swiping his hair from his eyes as he blinks in the sunlight.  A special barge floats in the water nearby and he swims towards it.  The polished wooden ramp gleams smooth, splinter free.  Derek is unafraid to pull his body up onto the flat area designated for him.  It is covered in enough water to keep him comfortable, but not enough to sink the barge.

A waiting guard nods her head to him, blonde hair tied in a practical bun.  Her brown eyes linger longer than is polite on his long, teal tail.  Earth-walkers and their insatiable curiosity.  She walks away to fetch the prince.  

Derek smooths his wet hair, picking weeds and other undesirables from his scales, making sure he appears presentable.  He shifts, until his tail is curled around his body until he is able to sit straight without looking like a fish out of water.  This transaction is an important one.  The earth-walker prince is rich, and his armies strong.  Establishing a healthy network will be good for his coffers.  He is but a commoner, and can only afford to advertise his business through his patrons.  Hence, having well known patrons is pertinent to his small business.

Derek combs his fingers through the pearls sitting on his chest, making sure each one is in its proper place.  They drape over his biceps, swirling, and flowing between his arms and torso like gills.  Derek is proud of this set.  He harvested these pearls, strung each and every one himself, carved the coral clasps.  Derek spent a fortnight making the body set, and it shows.  

Many of his patrons complain about waiting months for their commissions, but fine quality takes time and patience.  Derek has no need for lazy assistants to ruin his name.  His good work speaks for itself, and so he works alone.

He hears a light step approaching the stairs from below deck, so he stretches his arms out, presenting himself and his wares for inspection.  

The man that emerges from the depths, is not what he expected.  

The earth-walker prince’s deeds are known far and wide.  He has been called ruthless, but kind.  Diplomatic, yet forgiving.  Derek imagined he would be older—hair grey with wisdom, crows feet at the corners of rheumy eyes, maybe even sporting a beard.  

The man standing tall and magnificent in front of him, is nothing of the sort.  He is youthful, with eyes of the rarest Baltic amber, glimmering with intelligence in the sun.  His hair appears soft, and blows in the slight breeze, scattering across his forehead, gentle like the gaze in his eyes.  His skin is dotted like the night sky and Derek has to look away.  The prince is so beautiful, he cannot even stand to look upon his face.  

He recalls stories his mother used to tell him in his youth.  About mates, and how he would know, instinctively, that he found someone with the potential to be _his_.  He ducks his head, heart stuttering in his chest.  

 _Could this be?_  Derek thinks.  But then, his eyes are drawn to the promise ring upon the prince’s finger.  Derek turns his head away in shame for looking upon a man, soon to be another's, with desire in his eyes.

“Your pearls are exquisite, Ser.”  The earth-walker prince says, his voice deep for a man not yet sporting a beard.

“Your Highness.”  Derek dips his head in respect.  “You may call me Derek, I am no Ser.”

The prince approaches with light steps. “For your mastery, you deserve a great title.  These are magnificent,” he says, voice rough in awe.

Derek looks up to find the prince crouched in front of him.  He’s surprised the prince has deemed him safe to approach.  Earth-walkers are notorious for being wary of his kind, what with sirens dragging soldiers to the depths every chance they can.  Merfolk are no sirens, but prejudices develop regardless.

“May I see?”  The prince requests, holding his palm out.

“Of course.”  Derek peels a long set off his body.  On his torso, it stretches from where his man-flesh meets his tail, ending in a teardrop pearl and clasp of fine coral.  He gives it to the earth-walker prince, who runs milky white hands over the strand.  Like he is worshipping it.

“The sailor was right,”  the prince whispers under his breath, “they look as if they have fallen from the heavens.”  Blood rushes to Derek’s ears at the praise, and he ducks his head, trying to hide it.  The prince continues.  “I wish to purchase the whole set.”

Derek blinks in surprise.  “My lord, they cost an extravagant amount.”  

“That is of no matter.”  The prince shakes his head, smiling softly.  “They are too beautiful, I would regret letting them go.”

“You must truly love your betrothed,”  Derek says sadly, indicating his head to the promise ring on the prince’s finger.  

“Yes, my betrothed,”  the prince says with a distant, weary, look in his eye.

“I can adjust the length and form of the strands to better fit her form?”  Derek offers reluctantly.

The prince frowns, mouth twisting in sadness.  “Yes, I suppose you should do that,”  he says like he would rather Derek keep them as is.  The prince pauses for a moment, amber eyes trailing over the strands, until Derek feels he is no longer looking only at the pearls, but at the merman underneath. “They suit you finely.  I don’t know if they would compliment anyone as they do you.”

The transaction is swift.  The pearls are handed to the blonde guard who tucks them away into a velvet lined chest.  The prince gives Derek his payment, giving it so their fingers caress for a long second.  The touch burns, electrifying him.  It feels like potentiality, but also loss.  Like a mate, a love, that can never be.  The prince is an earth-walker—even if he was not betrothed, they are doomed—separated by status, by earth and water, by fate.

“Would you return?”  The prince asks as Derek is about to slide off the barge, slipping back into the water.

“I live a distance away, but if you truly wish the strands adjusted to fit your betrothed, I will do so.  If that is what you truly want.”

The prince shakes his head, firmly.  “They do not suit her, not like they suit-”  He clears his throat, biting his lip unhappily.

“Then I see no reason for me to return,”  Derek says reluctantly, even though his reason stands right in front of him.  He swallows the words he wishes to say and twists his tail, intending to go, when the prince calls out.

“Wait!”

Derek stops, looking back expectantly.

“I want you to make a matching set to fit me,”  the prince states hurriedly.  “It must shine, flow and drape like this one.  It must be the twin of this set.”

“Why?”  Derek cocks his head to the side.  “If your bride will not wear the first set, why need it match?”

The prince looks at him, pain and something that looks like longing in his eyes.  “Because fate is cruel, Ser.  It is ugly and vicious, but your pearls are beautiful.”

The prince holds his hand out, and the guard gives him the chest.  “I will wear the set you are to make me, and you will wear these.”  The prince takes the pearls he already purchased, and drapes them over Derek’s body again, one strand at a time.  Derek lets him, surprised, sitting still as the prince’s fingers ghost over his damp skin.  “I will marry my betrothed, as is my duty.”  His voice cracks, “But I will have your pearls, and you will have mine, and that is enough.”

“My lord…”

“Stiles, my name is Stiles,”  the prince says desperately.

“Stiles,”  Derek says, the name flowing off his tongue like a gentle ocean current, “I will finish them in a fortnight.”

“And then you will return?”

“I will return.”


End file.
